Sunrise, Sunset
by Axiom
Summary: What happens when Vegeta and Bulma get personal... and suddenly their world is turned upside down.


Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ, Avril Lavgine, or Creed, or anyone! . . . though I wish I did . . . *drool*

A/N: Ok, this is going to be a sweet song fic/one shot sort of thing. No lemon, no citrus, just all around cute-ness. Enjoy! But don't worry! The songs don't take up much, they just emphasize the point a little. Thanks and enjoy! 

*Sunrise, Sunset*

Bulma moaned as she fumbled with the key in the lock, hardly able to stand upright anymore. The key wouldn't budge and she suddenly realized the door wasn't even locked. Vegeta was home, out training most likely, but she always let the door open when he was around. 

She pushed open the door, took a few aching steps, and plopped down on the couch, not even bothering to remove my two inch heels. Kami, did she hurt. 

Anyone in their right mind (Vegeta and Goku excluded) would have been aching after the day she had. The hauler/trucker that was supposed to show up today called in sick, and there was no one else able to move the heavy computer monitors into the compound. She had started to help at nine, thinking it was a temporarily nice thing to do for her workers . . . but when she had still been hauling monitors at six, she started to get a little irritated. She had yelled at a few people and decided to cut the day short. Her feet were aching, her back was aching, her arms were aching, her shoulders, legs, and any other working part in her body was just afire. She sat up, yawned, and pulled off her heels. 

"Oh man," she commented as her feet began to breath for the first time in nine hours. She massaged them tenderly with already aching hands. She needed to get to bed. Bulma looked up at the clock. It was seven thirty, but that was a good enough excuse for her . . . and she was about to go to bed when . . . 

"Where have you been? I'm finished training and I would like . . . no, I want some food." 

Bulma exhaled loudly and laid back down. She said to the Saiyan Prince, "Do I look like I care?" 

"Gods, are you asking me to look at you? I'm going to loose my appetite." 

She let the comment slide. "I hurt like hell, and I'm going to bed. Feed yourself. You have a brain, no matter how small it may be, so go make your own food." She sighed when Vegeta stormed out of the room. She sat up and had a little bit of trouble keeping her eyes off that cute butt he had . . . Bulma put a hand to her head. "I must be loosing it . . . " But the more she thought about him, the more appealing he became . . . For a few weeks now, the little thought now and then about Vegeta had turned into the full fledge obsession . . . but like she would let him know that. But she wouldn't pretend like she hadn't seen him starting at her strangely when he thought she wasn't looking. 

"Woman, there is no food." 

She turned to face him, well over her patience point. "Damn it, I do not care! Go kill a cow or something! I'm not your freaking maid." She walked towards the steps. 

"Call the people who deliver food then!"

She made a frustrated noise and put her hands on her hips. "Take out? Kami . . . " but an idea rose in her brain. Why not work on a 'I suffer, you suffer' ratio? "There are no take out places open tonight past seven." Hell, it was Sunday . . . 

"My ass there isn't. Well, you aren't going upstairs until I get something to eat." 

"Oh really. Then I guess you'll just have to watch me." Bulma began up the steps when his warm hand wrapped around her wrist. The skin under his hand began to tingle but she brushed off the sensation. "Let go of me." 

"Not until you get me something to eat." 

She sighed heavily, putting her free hand on her hip. The wheels in her head began to turn, and she chewed her tongue as she thought of a way to get both happy responses out of the situation. Vegeta growled at her blank expression. 

"Is there something to think about? Get me some food and I'll let you do whatever the hell you weaklings do when your hurt." 

Weakling, huh . . . A devious smirk played across her face. Let's just see who's weak . . . in controlling themselves . . . "You know, I can't go around letting you do whatever you want and ordering me around. It's bad for my reputation. I have a proposition to make."

"Let's hear it. I doubt that it will be any good, but amuse me." 

"Whatever. Ok, here's the deal. I'll order you take out . . . if you give me a full body massage." 

Vegeta's brows narrowed in a scrutinizing way. He looked at her sideways. "Why?" 

"Hey, you want food, I want a massage. Get it? We're both happy. You know, a compromise?" 

To her great surprise, he nodded. "Fine." She expected him to retort or be mad or something . . . but he flashed her a malicious smirk. _Oh crap . . . what have I gotten myself into? _

Bulma walked the equivalent of an old lady with arthritis, hobbling along at speeds under that of a snail. She finally reached the phone, pressed the speed dial button for the nearest large take out (speed dial, of course), and ordered Vegeta's usual. The lady on the other line greeted her with a happy voice . . . the order was easy to make and rang up quite a cash load. Bulma exhaled as the lady told the amount in a giddy voice and said the food was to be there in about forty five minutes, due to the extent of the order. She ordered a burger for herself, too. 

"Forty five minutes?" Vegeta fumed, crossing his arms and taking up his usual stance. 

Bulma shrugged. "Yeah, you're the one who eats all their food supply, give them a minute to make everything. And besides," she said with a grin, "forty five minutes for my massage. Get upstairs." 

Vegeta hated being ordered around . . . but he wasn't a fool. He saw her stealing glances at him at the breakfast table, or at night, or any other time of the day, for that matter. He wasn't quite sure how she felt about him . . . but he wasn't sure that he could contain himself any longer either.

Bulma seemed a little too cocky to Vegeta, and he was determined to let her know just who was in charge. He followed her up the stairs, grumbling about how slow she was as his eyes flickered towards her backside a few times. "I don't think so . . . " he commented as she was about to go into her room. He pointed towards his door, two rooms down, and she shook her head. 

"No way."

"You are getting the better end of this idiotic deal, so I get to choose where." 

"Fine. I don't care." 

She followed him into his room. It was neat and tidy, something that was a little out of character, or so it seemed, for the Saiyan Prince. But then again, Bulma realized she didn't know that much about him anyway. _Mental note, Vegeta cleans. _

Vegeta went into his bathroom and grabbed a single white towel. "It wouldn't be a good massage with your clothes on, would it?" He said with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

Fine, if he was going to act all cocky, she could play too. Bulma gave him a sexy grin. "No, I guess not." She turned her back to him, and unbuttoned her bra with one hand, pulling it out from underneath her shirt and placing it at the end of his bed. She kept reminding herself that she could beat him at his own game as she slid her tight C.C. t-shirt over her head and onto the floor by her bra. 

She listened closely behind her and confirmed that Vegeta must have gone into the bathroom. She slid off her pants, leaving on her panties and she laid on top of the soft covers of his bed with the towel over her top part of her thighs and butt. She wasn't shy, but she wasn't sure if she wanted Vegeta starring at her ass the whole time. She put her hands underneath her head and got comfortable. As Vegeta walked in, she caught a glimpse of his eyes. She expected them to be full of malice and cruelty like normally . . . but they held something else. Something different she couldn't quite place . . . something a long the lines of passion . . . 

Vegeta walked in, cracking his knuckles. He gave her a once over, rated her a high nine, and climbed over her, straddling her waist. 

His hands were incredibly soft. Probably from the gloves, she mused as he began to work her tight muscles in her shoulders. His hands were powerful, and she could feel that he was being extremely careful not to push too hard. The pressure was just right and she could already feel her pained muscles relaxing under his touch. She had to squash naughty thoughts from entering her head. 

That man never ceased to confuse her. One minute he was yelling profanity across the room . . . the next rubbing her shoulders. And if being curious was ever a fault, now would be the time. The enigma of him intrigued her so much she couldn't help but think about him all the time. But she had the worse gut feeling that even though she might have been beginning to love him . . . she knew it was a one sided thing. 

He had never been so careful in all his life. She was skin and bones, and he wanted to make sure, no matter how annoying she got, not to smash the bones part. Her skin was silky and smooth, and her small muscles underneath were knotted and stressed. He moved down to her arms, stroking them carefully. 

A half an hour later, he had relaxed the muscles all the way down to her lower back. He worked slowly, easing the tension. In all this time, Bulma found herself extremely tired. She closed her eyes and the next thing she knew, the bliss of sleep overcame her.

Vegeta stopped as he heard her rhythmic breathing. She was asleep. He got off the bed just in time to hear the door bell ring. He took one last look at the angel sleeping on his bed, and closed the door quietly behind him. 

Bulma woke with a strange feeling in her stomach. She raised her head off her arms and the soft pink blanket that draped across her on warm summer nights in her room fell off her shoulders. She brought it up around her chest, remembering she had no clothes on and was in Vegeta's room. She glanced at his green clock. 5:15 am. She was fully rested without an ache in her body. She stood, stretched as well as she could, and picked up her clothes from the night before. 

As she placed a hand on the door knob, it turned and opened. She stepped back, startled. Vegeta stood at the door way with a smug look on his face.

"Sleep well?" 

Bulma smiled genuinely and nodded. "Yes." 

"Now if you don't mind, I'd like to take back possession of my room." 

"No problem." As Vegeta walked passed her, she thought of something. "Vegeta . . . thank you, I guess." 

He grunted. She smiled to herself as she walked out. 

In her room, Bulma got dressed in her favorite outfit . . . a light blue sports bra with a beater and extremely baggy (they were three sizes too big) pair of blue pants. The outfit was cool, so she slipped on her favorite baggy sweater. After all, it was the middle of October. 

Bulma almost skipped into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, did her hair in a messy bun, and washed her face. The cool water felt good on her skin, and she inhaled deeply. She was in an extremely good mood, which was rare. 

Grabbing a granola bar from the kitchen, she grabbed a capsule labeled 'hover-craft' and shoved it in her pocket as she took a bit out of her snack. She opened the door, and the crisp, morning air nipped at her face. There was a slight breeze, and a few wispy clouds decorating the horizon. Bulma tilted her head as she scanned the skyline, and frowned. Too many trees. She took the capsule out of her pocket and threw it a few yards away. The hover-craft popped up with a snap, and she started it up. She would have jogged if the place she wanted to go wasn't about fifteen miles away. 

She hovered along the side of the road, as hover-crafts weren't allowed on the intersection. She picked up the headphones on the seat next to her and placed them on her ears. She tuned in to the latest radio station to hear one of her most favorite songs, Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavgine. As Bulma smiled when the beginning notes began to play, she pulled off the highway to a secluded road she knew so well. 

__

He was a boy,

She was a girl,

Can I make it anymore obvious?

He was a punk,

She did ballet,

What more can I say?

He wanted her,

But she'd never tell,

Secretly, she wanted him as well.

All of her friends,

Stuck up their nose.

They had a problem with his baggy clothes.

She shut off the craft as she reached her destination. Parking a couple meters away, she slid out the portable radio she had wired into the system and hooked it on her pants. Suddenly, she thought about the lyrics to her song she cranked up every time it was on. Sure, it had a catchy beat, but . . . did it apply to her more then she thought? 

Maybe . . . Vegeta had been showing much more kindness to her now a days then ever. Bulma told herself she wasn't mean to him . . . just not very nice. He hadn't actually been nasty to her since . . . what was it? A week ago? Why had he agreed to that massage so quickly? But then her mind flashed back to the night before. 

_She put her hands underneath her head and got comfortable. As Vegeta walked in, she caught a glimpse of his eyes. She expected them to be full of malice and cruelty like normally . . . but they held something else. Something different she couldn't quite place . . . something a long the lines of passion . . ._

Had what he felt been more then just a physical attraction? The way he handled her that night was carefully and gently, like he cared. Why hadn't she noticed this before? Was this feeling not as one sided as she originally thought? Bulma sat down on the cliff she had come to. The rising sun lit up the sky with such a magnificent array of colors. 

__

He was a skater boy,

She said "See ya later boy"

He wasn't good enough for her.

She had a pretty face

But her head was up in space.

She needed to come back down to Earth.

Five years from now,

She sits at home,

Feeding the baby

She's all alone.

She turns on TV

Guess who she sees

Skater boy rocking up MTV.

She calls up her friends

They already know,

And they've got tickets to see his show

She tags along

Stands in the crowd

Looks up at the man she turned down.

__

He was a skater boy

She said "See ya later boy"

He wasn't good enough for her

Now he's a super star

Slamming on his guitar

Does your pretty face see what he's worth?

She laid down in the soft grass adorning the mountainous area. Bulma put her hands under her chin, serious considering the point in the song. Could she seriously have Vegeta figured all wrong? Sure, he was attractive and could be nice at times . . . but she always tried squashed the thoughts about having a relationship with her until the night before, because she knew he'd run off and leave her. She didn't want to go through that, she had already been through hell with Yamcha . . . she wasn't about to do it again. 

__
    
    Sorry girl but you missed out
    Well tough luck, that boys mine now.
    We are more than just good friends
    This is how the story ends
    Too bad that you couldn't see
    See that man that boy could be
    There is more that meets the eye
    I see the soul that is inside
    He's just a boy, and I'm just a girl
    Can I make it anymore obvious?
    We are in love, haven't you heard
    How we rock each others world
    I'm with the skater boy,
    I said see ya later boy
    I'll be back stage after the show
    I'll be at the studio
    Singing the song we wrote
    About a girl you used to know . . . 

As the song came to a close, Bulma wondered, almost getting concerned, what would happen if she didn't persue anything with Vegeta? Would some other girl come along? Would she be replaced by someone else? That last night he had shown more love then she had ever expected. Inside he was a good person, no matter what icy outside he sported. 

Bulma sighed and rose from her spot. The sun had light up the sky now, and she had to go back home before someone got worried. She didn't know who . . . her parents were gone and Vegeta couldn't care less . . . or at least that's what she thought. 

She slipped the radio player back into its place and turned on the hover bike with a dull roar. Backing up, she drove out onto the big road, tapping her foot to another favorite, "My Sacrifice," by Creed. 

As she listened to that song, she didn't see the car coming towards her. She didn't hear it slam on its brakes and try to turn. She didn't even feel the impact. She was dead before she touched the ground, with the last words "My sacrifice . . . " playing as the radio player died. 

***

Vegeta paced back and forth in the hospital filled with sick children, bleeding adults, and people being sent off to the morgue. At every person that passed, he quickly scanned them to see if he recognized them . . . as Bulma. All of the Z team had been called to the accident concerning her, and they didn't know what to expect or what happened . . . all he knew was his gut told him something horrible happened . . . and he didn't like it. 

"I can't stand this!" Chichi exclaimed, putting her head in her hands. 

"Yeah, we all know, Chi," Goku said, putting a hand on his wife's back. 

"Are you all here concerning Miss Bulma Briefs?" a doctor asked, walking up to the group. 

"Yes," Krillin said quietly. 

The doctor put a hand to the bridge in his nose and sighed loudly. "I'm . . . I'm sorry. She was driving her hover-craft, and was obviously listening to the radio which was found by her side. She was driving and a car tried to pass her but they missed and hit her craft, resulting in . . . " the doctor cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. 

"Resulting in what?" Chichi said in a cold voice, almost daring him to tell her anything bad. 

"Resulting in death." 

The whole room went deathly quiet and everyone dealt with the shock differently. Piccolo walked out. Krillin put his head in his hand. Chichi cried onto Goku's shoulder, who was just staring at the floor, fighting off his own tears. Gohan sighed and rubbed his temples. Yamcha wept openly. 

But Vegeta, he felt his heart rip in half. Gone. She was dead, gone. All the times he had called her unspeakable names or hurt her or threatened her all came back to him. Inside he had really cared about her, there was just no denying it. Vegeta was fed up with denial. He had lived a lie all his life, he wasn't about to start again. Suddenly he felt angry. Lethally angry at the person who killed his woman, the human he thought about every minute of the day, every hour of the night. 

"And what about the person who killed her?" Vegeta said blankly. 

"He walked away with a few minor injuries." 

_Damn him, I'll him that bastard . . . _

"Vegeta . . . please calm down," Goku said quietly. Vegeta had almost forgotten Kakkarot could also talk telepathically, and that message he had sent to no one was pretty loud. "Killing anyone won't get Bulma back." 

The rest of that night was spent signing papers and calling Bulma's parents, who also took it very hard. Who knew they'd be burying their daughter instead of the other way around? Vegeta had left long ago to go destroy something. Chichi took on the job with the papers. 

***

Two days later, Vegeta awoke from a very vivid dream, including Bulma bleeding and dying on the ground. He wiped his head of sweat and tried to get back to sleep with no luck. He glanced at his clock, which read 8:02 pm. He had went to bed at six because he hadn't slept at all for two days. He looked out his patio window at the beautiful sunset. The sun sank into the horizon in colors like red, orange, and purple. Bulma loved sunsets. He turned on his radio, something he almost never did. The DJ announced, "And now for a little bit of a depressing song . . . Dying Heart by Devotion." It sounded alright, so Vegeta kept it on.
    
    _Why'd you leave me
    With a dying heart
    My life without you
    Is gonna be so hard
    Only pieces of my life remain
    Missing memories of yesterday
    We were so happy,
    But now you're gone
    And I can't understand it, baby
    Cloudy days just make me realize that now
    I have nothing left to live for tomorrow
    _

__

Vegeta sighed. How crazy is it when songs like this come on just at the right time? He had nothing left to live for. His life, his thoughts, were all just broken memories of that beautiful woman with eyes like the sea. She was his life, though not by choice. It was like the thought of her jammed itself into his head. He had cursed her and himself for being so weak. But what was there to be strong about? He was obsessed . . . dare he say it? In love . . . ? If he even could, this is what it would feel like. He had already become a Super Saiyan . . . and defeating Kakkarot had even lost some of its thrill. All he could think of was her. 

__
    
    Tell me
    why'd you leave me
    With a dying heart
    My life without you is gonna be so hard
    Only pieces of my life remain
    Missing memories of yesterday
    I don't know what went wrong with all of our dreams
    I thought our love was so strong
    But that love you took away from me
    You just left me that day
    You didn't even explain
    And now I'm living in pain and agony

He laid down on his bed. He hadn't ever hurt this much in his life. He had never cared for anyone, never loved anyone. But he had changed. Vegeta had his pride, maybe more then ever, but he was beginning to learn when it was time to throw that away. Pride and love didn't mix. He wasn't irrational, sure she was annoying at times . . . He put his hands behind his head, conjuring the picture of her silky back under his fingers just the night before. Trying to remember the smell of lavender that surrounded her. Trying to remember what she looked like as she slept as the dying sun drifted from sight. 

__
    
    Why'd you leave me
    With a dying heart
    My life without you is going to be so hard
    Only pieces of my life remain
    Missing memories of yesterday
    I can't love no more
    And my heart is so dark
    It's like I'm losing touch of all reality
    The pain it hurts so deep
    That I'm losing all my sleep
    Thoughts of you never seem to leave my mind

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. If she wasn't here anymore, he would bring her back to him. The Prince of all Saiyans always got what he wanted. He got up and dressed. Walking down to the kitchen, he grabbed a bit to eat before making a beeline to Bulma's lab. He searched high and low for the small little detector she had used to locate those little magical balls, and after forty five minutes he found it underneath a desk. How unorganized, he thought, amused at the thought of her pitching things around. 

He went back inside to find a pen and pencil. He hadn't ever been very good at writing human language, but he did the best he could. Leaving the note on the counter for the Briefs, (they had come home early from their trip because of Bulma's death . . . ) he opened the front door and closed it quietly behind him.

***

"Sweetie?" Mrs. Briefs called out tiredly, with dark circles under her normally happy eyes. 

"Yes?" her husband called back hollowly and defeated. 

"Have you seen Vegeta?"

"Nuh-huh." 

"Hold on a minute . . . there's a note here . . . " Her eyes widened as she read it, and her hand shot to the phone. Five minutes later, the whole Z team arrived at their house. 

"Read this," Mrs. Briefs said, dabbing the tissue under her eyes. Goku took it and read out loud Vegeta's chicken scratch. 

**_Gone to find the Dragonballs. Do not come after me. _**

"He certainly can't do that alone!" Chichi exclaimed, looking at her husband. Goku wrapped an arm around his mate. 

"Chi, if she means as much to him as she does to us, he'll want to go alone. It's just something he has to do for himself, I guess." 

***********************************************************

Thanks for reading that, guys! It was like waaaaaay long compared to all my other junk. I hope you enjoyed it even if Vegeta is way OOC. I can explain my reason if you really, really want to argue about it.

DarkStar


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